#noolss

after a minute or two, neil pulls sir into his lap like a shield, and says “no breakfast?”

which is just insult to injury

andrew narrows his eyes. “there’s nothing to have”

“you can have some of my cereal, if you want”

andrew does not want. “there’s fruit in it.”

“and fibre,” neil says. it’s written on the side of the box in huge letters - fruit & fibre! - like that’s a selling point.

it sounds to andrew like he may as well eat a fruit bush on the side of a road.

“no,” andrew says. “i wanted my ice cream. but someone must have thrown it out.”

“i didn’t throw it out,” neil says petulantly. “i gave it to the kids two floors down. they seemed to like it, if you care.”

andrew’s eyes narrow further. there are layers of betrayal here. “i don’t.”

neil sighs, knowing from years of being around andrew that he needs to just get to the point. “you just need to eat something from a food group that isn’t sugar. it wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable.”

“funny, i don’t remember inviting my nutritionist into my apartment,” andrew says, recognising the words.

neil reminds him that his nutritionist is neil’s nutritionist, too, though andrew doesn’t know why he’s supposed to care about this information. the nutritionist had a grating, nasal voice and mentioned kale within a minute of meeting andrew, so he didn’t make a lasting impression

the nutritionist had seemed very against andrew’s diet, and seemed to think it would hold andrew back from a lasting career

andrew’s pretty sure he doesn’t care

(besides, it’s bullshit. his diet hasn’t changed much since palmetto and he’s still called one of the best goalkeepers in the game)

neil admits the nutritionist may have had to enlist his help after andrew continued to ignore him

“the bosses are getting involved. apparently your health checks came back borderline on - a lot of things. either you get your shit together or they can’t keep you on the team. you’re a disaster waiting to happen.” neil hesitates. “their words.”

“what, my teeth will fall out in goal? sounds like a good tactic to stop the opposition scoring,” andrew drawls.

the conversation goes on for a bit

neil eventually gets andrew to agree to try

(with some creative bargains and sexual favours)

neil still doesn’t know how to cook so he enlists help

andrew likes this even less when neil’s so-called friends have to get involved

nicky makes them a vegetarian pizza, somehow missing the fact that plain cheese pizzas are also vegetarian, which andrew can stomach despite the fact that broccoli does not and never will belong on a pizza

dan makes a vegetable soup and seeded bread to have with it. she calls it a “light lunch”. andrew suggests neil might want to stay away from the pointy end of his kitchen knife when andrew goes for a mid-afternoon snack

the nutritionist, hearing neil has had some degree of success with andrew, sends them home with a few servings of what he calls his “magnum opus”. neither of them can tell what it is, and it smells so revolting heated up that andrew refuses to try it on principle. neil says “it can’t be that bad,” but it sounds like a question, and almost gags on trying it. the cats won’t eat it either.

kevin treats them to steak and vegetables. that’s alright, andrew doesn’t say out loud. “it’d be better with fries,” is equally true. “does ketchup count as fruit?” he asks, putting ketchup on his plate in the middle of a fancy restaurant. he’s gratified when the bottle makes a loud spluttering sound.

“see? it’s not that bad!” neil says after a week or so

andrew thinks neil misses their shitty diet more than he does

there’s probably some science to the fact that more vegetables makes people more boring. kevin would be a great case study

andrew doesn’t even bother to reply to neil. it’s been a week since he’s had ice cream

(no one bet he could actually do it.)

(it wasn’t his pride that made him win that bet. he means it.)

neil crawls up closer to him on the couch

“i’m not saying you have to eat healthy all of the time. no one does.”

“kevin does,” andrew interjects, though it’s not strictly true.

“no human does,” neil amends. “but just… more healthy. almost like you’re attempting to have a balanced diet. i know it’s a novel idea, but consider it.”

andrew does. neil’s annoying and persistent enough that if he doesn’t, neil will do it for him, and louder.

he turns up to his next meeting with his nutritionist with a plastic bag full of raw carrot sticks and purposely crunches and rustles his way through the fifteen minutes until the man looks decidedly pained

It takes a while but slowly, Parker sees the differences between her world and the other world. In her own world, Parker had a younger brother, Emmet, who had died. In the other world, Emmet was still alive, thriving as a sophomore in high school. Those glimpses were always the worst, and the most confusing. It’s hard to tell sometimes what is a real memory, and what is a memory from the other Parker. But there are many times she wakes from what is certainly not her own memory and can’t bring herself to get out of bed. Her Dad never blames her; he just takes one look and understands she needs time.

That’s another difference she’s seen; her parents. Parker has lived with her parents since she was born, but her mother had often been absent from the house. Parker remembers when she was two years old and Emmet was born she had been so jealous of all the attention he was getting. It wasn’t just that he was shiny and new, but her mother was actually there in the house, but wasn’t spending time with her. It didn’t last long and her mother was quickly on to bigger and better things, but Emmet was always her favorite. When Emmet died, so did her mother.

She remembers reading The Hunger Games in English class and having to leave because of how much of her own mother she saw reflected in Katniss’s mother. After Emmet died, Parker’s mom hadn’t said a word. For three months, she sat around the house, going through the motions until one night, she disappeared and left a note. All the note said was “don’t look for me.” No “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or any semblance of emotion, just “don’t look for me.”

In the other world, Emmet was alive, her mother was always around as well as her father. It was like a dream come true.  Parker hoped that while she was watching Parker II, Parker II could see into her world and understand how important it is to hold on to Emmet.

The memories were a funny thing, because not a lot of them were different. There was the family situation and all the horrors that went along with that, but the world itself seemed to function the same exact way. Parker II was happy, something the regular Parker hadn’t felt in some time. A large portion of that happiness come from her friends. They were the most common characters in the memories, but Parker still didn’t know much about them.

The time she heard one of their names was when it was said by the girl. They seemed to be on a picnic in the park by Parker’s house, it looked exactly the same as it did in the real world. It was just the three of them, Parker, the boy with shiny bronze hair and a smattering of moles across his face, and the girl with a laugh like sunlight and eyes that glistened in the reflecting sun.

They were sitting chatting when the girl turned to the boy and said “Dirk Walsh, your hair is getting more and more out of hand,” before reaching over and tucking a lock behind his ear. Her stomach lurched as she watched the shy smiles between the two of them.

Why do I care? she thought to herself as the girl continued to run her hands through his hair. Soon, she moved on to poking at the moles up and down his arm, always staying in contact with him. Parker could feel her face burning out of jealousy. Why do I wish that was me? I don’t even know either of them.

Pretty soon, they all laid on their backs on the blanket they were sitting on, talking about unimportant details and laughing in-between. The laughter that followed chased Parker into the darkness as her body began to wake up.

Once she had returned to reality, her phone vibrating under her pillow, telling her it was time to get up, she had all but forgotten about the dream. As usual, she took her time getting up and out of bed to get ready for the day. It wasn’t until halfway through the school day until she remembered.

At school, Parker was somewhat of an outcast. She was a senior but hadn’t made too many friends throughout her time at school; having your brother die when you are a freshman seems to make you less friendly. It wasn’t until she was at lunch and heard a table near hers burst out into a fit of laughter that she remembered.

At the first sign of laughter, choked on the water she was drinking as she was thrown back into the sunny patch of grass. She took a minute to gather herself and stop the spluttering before quietly whispering, “Dirk Walsh” to herself. Parker’s first thought was to take out her cell phone to see if she could find his doppelganger in the real world, but unfortunately, school had a strict no cell phone policy.

The rest of the say she was buzzing with energy and excitement. This was the first time she has discovered something from the other world that didn’t make her sad but rather intrigued. After school was out, she calmed herself enough to drive herself home and pull out her laptop to get to work.

She typed the name “Derk Walsh” into the search bar of Google and waited, but nothing popped up. It took her several more spelling attempts, and even more Facebook scrolling to find him.

“Dirk Walsh,” she read out loud to herself, “lives in Huntington Massachusetts, and is currently a senior in high school.” She clicked through his pictures, and grew more and more disheartened as she realized, he’s a real person, i have no reason to contact him or ever meet him.

She closed her laptop and went about the rest of her day, itching to get to sleep to see if she could gain any more insight into the life she craved so much.

Is there a way to vicariously live through yourself? she asked herself as she climbed into bed and set the alarm on her phone. Probably, but that’s a problem for another time.

It was never instantaneous, the process of observing a memory. Sometimes, it started off as a weird dream that morphed into a memory, but it was easy to tell the difference between “weird, sugar induced dream” and “temporal connection between universe memory.” Dreams were always soft and fuzzy, sort of out of focus,  while memories were sharp and clear like something in high definition.

This time, Parker started off by dreaming. The dream itself wasn’t memorable, she was at home and was making herself breakfast when she ran upstairs to grab her phone since she had forgotten it. When she opened her door, she knew she was in a memory. The colors shifted from the muted, washed-out colors to the intense vibrancy of a memory.

It wasn’t anything unusual, Parker went and sat down on her bed and seemed to be waiting for something. Why am I just sitting here? After about a minute, the door opened and the girl walked in. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail behind her head and she didn’t meet Parker’s eyes until she quietly closed the door behind her.

Parker watched as she took careful steps towards her and stood up to meet her halfway. Suddenly, deep brown eyes and immaculate eyebrows were all she could see as the breathed the same air for a moment.

Although memories are sharper and clearer, Parker still wasn’t sure who moved first. She couldn’t see anymore but she could feel. She felt the fuzziness of the girl’s sweater under her hand as it rested on her shoulder. She felt the small breeze from the ceiling fan against her cheek. She felt the gentle touch of shaky fingers against her cheek. She felt the softness of lips pressed against her own.

Oh.

They were moving in sync, in a connection that only comes with time and patience.

This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed.

Their movements morphed from a chaste kiss into something more powerful, more meaningful. Parker felt like she was going to cry. The pure emotion involved in one, simple kiss, was more than she could handle.

I want to wake up now.

They finally broke apart, resting their foreheads together for a moment before pulling back to look each other in the eyes. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s bodies, holding in a tight embrace as Parker felt herself sigh.

She heard herself whisper something with such reverence and emotion, she was pushed almost over the edge. The word itself was simple, but it carried so much raw power in the way her voice cracked and the way her body seemed to be trembling, as if she couldn’t get it out. She had to draw a breath before and after she said it, shifting in the girl’s embrace.

“Salma,” she had whispered as she clutched tightly to the other girl’s waist and shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the rest of the world.

Salma, Parker repeated to herself. What a simple name for the girl who seemed to be so much to her in this world. She opened her eyes and seemed to be quickly engulfed by Salma’s deep brown eyes. She held eye contact as she leaned back in but the leaning never stopped. Parker’s whole world was quickly surrounded by deep tones of brown and black as she was thrown into the abyss between awake and asleep.